


Give Me Your Freedom

by Heart_Breath, Shannybear, Stray_Ashes



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bottom!Frank, Frank's a Navy soldier, Frerard, Gerard's the captain of a pirate ship, Love/Hate, M/M, Mikey first officer, Pirates, Red Crow, Sea, Top!Gerard, Translation, mature content, pirate!frerard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heart_Breath/pseuds/Heart_Breath, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shannybear/pseuds/Shannybear, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stray_Ashes/pseuds/Stray_Ashes
Summary: [Pirate!Frerard - English Colony in Jamaica, year 1715]-Frank tried really hard to ignore those words, ignore the picture of Way's hand - more and more clear in his mind  -, ignore how he was enjoying everything."C'mon...""Shut up," he hissed, but he noticed how much his voice was thick with hesitation right after he had heard it."C'mon, wouldn't it be exciting? A pirate and a Navy soldier... an immoral and irresistible attraction..."Frank tried to stop his legs, which had suddenly started trembling. It had already happened before; it was caused by cold or, sometimes, by fear. But the sensation that was now shaking every fiber of his body was utterly unknown. It fogged his mind and his sight, it gave him the impression of being fragile as a blade of grass, it speeded up his heartbeat like he was sick, it made him flushed with frustration.He hated and loved that sensation at the same time, exactly how he hated that pirate's gut, but in that moment he just craved to cancel the distance between the two of them."I'm here, boy" he kept wheezing. "I'm yours if you want me. There is nobody except us, no one will ever know..."





	1. For All Of Our Lives

**Author's Note:**

> [Pirate!Frerard – English Colony in Jamaica, year 1715]
> 
> ~
> 
> [Translation - from Italian]  
> Original author: HeartBreath  
> Part 1 of the series: "Why Are We So Incomplete?"  
> Chapter Translator: Stray_Ashes

 

**Give Me Your Freedom**

**by: HeartBreath**

** **

**Art by: @Stray_Ashes**

 

 

  * **Chapter 1: "For All Of Our Lives"**



 

Gerard Way would have never stopped admiring the sea as if it was the eyes of the love of his life. And plus, in that moment of the day – just when the sun ranged the blue of the water to the red of the sunset -, he could've sworn there was nothing more beautiful. Actually, he could have sworn there wasn't anything this beautiful at all. With this scene right before his eyes, the world seemed endless, and his. Completely and only his.

The sea, after all, was the only world that had never refused him. It was a pact for a life, the one sealed between the captain of a ship and the waves he cut through.

_'Give me your freedom, and I'll give you my soul'_

A brief yet powerful blow of wind made the steering wheel slip from the momentarily distracted hands of the captain, and he had the impression that it was just a whim of his _Sea Nest_ : the ship wanted to remind him that there was something beautiful in the world, indeed. Her.

Captain Way ran his hands – ruined and graceless – over the wood of the helm, as if it was a living being in need of attention. He had never given strokes and caresses so kind to anyone, not even to those who were loved by him for a whole night. Without his ship, he couldn't have lived the life he wanted, he couldn't have reached the brackish and sultry freedom he was breathing in deeply right now.

"The wind's been quite favorable, today" was the comment of the first officer, almost startling his captain, who didn't hear him coming. Gerard was a smart and careful man, but when he was lost in his thoughts – the ones hidden into his mind, unknown to anyone else – it seemed like he couldn't hear anything from the outside world.

"You talk like the day's done already"

"It won't be long to the arrival, right?"

Gerard smiled to himself. It didn't matter how many years would pass: the serious and cruelly brilliant first officer was still the same greenhorn unable to keep his impatience to see new places, the one with whom he wrestled in the dirt as a kid, the one that now was trying to be named with something more impressive and frightening than "Mikey". Gerard would never stop calling him like that anyway, and neither stop seeing the greenhorn in the fierce and aware eyes of his brother.

"Tonight" he said, enjoying the lights – bright as two newborn stars - that instantly lit up in Mikey's eyes.

Gerard remembered well the years, back in their hometown, when all the people kept telling them "You two are identical, like twins". Growing up, the differences had begun to make inroad in their faces: Mikey's was more elongated and angular, Gerard's was a bit more round and smooth. Mikey's eyes were thoughtful and calm, Gerard's were always looking for something. Even their souls had changed, shaping differently despite the two of them had shared practically the same life. Although there was no denying that Gerard had took care firsthand of the growth and the safety of Mikey, now it was, paradoxically, the younger boy who was more cautious and pragmatic – yet not 'responsible', because no, a pirate couldn't be responsible. The younger brother usually thought about the tangible benefits of life, while the older one liked to think about the entertainment it could grant.

One thing, however, didn't change. Throughout their whole life, they continued to get each other out of trouble.

"Tell the crew that if they want to eat something, they must do it in one hour" Gerard told Mikey. "After that, I want everyone on the deck to plan tonight's action. I need them to know exactly what they'll have to do..."

Mikey nodded – although his captain had the eyes stuck on the horizon – and then started moving away.

"Ah, and tell Maurice he'll have to replace me at the helm while I explain the plan"

"Yes sir..."

"Wait," Gerard stopped him again. "Tell him to come now. Staying up here distracts me, and I need to concentrate"

Mikey tilted his head and sharpened his gaze questioningly. "And why?"

"So I can set up a plan"

Mikey rolled his eyes, wondering why he was even wasting time asking Gerard those questions. He had known him for all of his life, and he knew better than anyone how useless it was to investigate about what was going through his mind.  
  
  


 

**[Halebeck, Jamaica]**

The footsteps of the Commodore Hamilton echoed on the marble floor, announcing him to the soldiers from a whole corridor away. His pace was always smooth and elegant, almost arrogant. Back straight, head always looking straight ahead, shoulders held back firmly, relaxed hand resting on the handle of the sword – safe inside the sheath tied to his belt.

It was curious how his whole appearance screamed ' _I am a soldier'_. Not just due to his posture, but also for the reassuring pale blue of his eyes, the kind smile, the blonde hair – always cut so neat and trimmed.

Arrived at the end of the hall – the door of his office right there in front of him – Hamilton looked around distractedly.

One of the guards beside the door noted his behavior immediately;

"He already let himself in"

The commodore nodded. "I guessed so, yeah"

Entering the office, he found a soldier standing in front of a wall, admiring the framed certificate hanging on it. It was the document which formalized the rank of Commodore for Mr. Cyrus Hamilton.

As soon as the boy heard the door open, he turned on himself and snapped to attention.

"Rest, Frank" Hamilton sort of smiled, amused by the way soldier Iero's professionalism remembered him the first steps of a child. He would never belittle the authenticity of Frank's military title, but he didn't think all these ceremonies were necessary when no one else was around the two of them. Once alone, they were just Cyrus and Frank, two very close friends since well before the military service.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Cyrus sighed: Frank was insisting, again. He stepped around the desk and fell heavily on his armchair, with very little elegance – but in front of his friend, he could do it.

"Well, actually, I wanted to see that weird kid who once dropped a sack of flour on himself in my mother's kitchen when he was seven. So if you see him, please send him to my office"

Frank shrugged and put his hands on his hips. "If it wasn't an official reason, you could've just called me yourself"

"It _is_ an official reason, but that doesn't mean you have to be a block of wood when no one can see you"

"My Commodore could see me"

"Then your Commodore commands you to relax!" Cyrus chuckled.

Frank's mouth deformed into a grimace of resignation. "Fine, as you wish; why the fuck did you call me?"

Hamilton burst out laughing, a sound that filled the younger's ears, who let himself feel embraced entirely by it: he considered it the closest thing to a choir of angels, after all. In the end he joined him, finding that laughter irresistibly contagious.

After a minute of good spirit, everything died out and silence came back slowly.

"I was with Dr. Grimbert today..."

"You don't feel well?" Frank asked, secretly alarmed.

"Not me; your brothers in arms. A condemned man suffered from tuberculosis, and now the whole northern prison's guard is showing similar symptoms. Fortunately, substitution aren't needed there– they've been already organized, for tomorrow's morning at least. But there's just an exception... "

"Let me guess; I'm that exception now"

Cyrus nodded. "Jefferson's been infected by his brother, one of the already ill guards. I need you to replace him tomorrow night"

A night shift, a task that Frank had always tried to avoid. But apart from the loyalty he owned to his commodore and the duty of obedience toward a superior, for Cyrus he would have done anything.

So he nodded, closing his eyelids and momentarily hiding the undefined color of his eyes.

"Tomorrow you'll get more detailed instructions" Hamilton concluded. "Anyway. Why don't you come for dinner with me and Isabelle tonight?"

The young soldier smiled crookedly, but gratefully. "I don't know... I wouldn't – I don't want to disturb..."

"That's nonsense! Belle will be glad"

Isabelle Cluzet was a young and attractive French girl who Cyrus had married only a year ago. Frank still remembered very well the day when Cyrus had run to him ranting something about soul sisters, destiny, Cupid's arrows and similar crap. And Frank's heart had skipped a beat hearing those words from that mouth, with that enthusiast tone... talking about someone else.

Isabelle was sweet, polite and – since he married her – a perfect house mistress. Still, Frank couldn't help but hate her. He was used to hide it, of course, because he couldn't be rude to a lady even trying, and he didn't want to make Cyrus feel ashamed of him. Nonetheless, behind his innocent smile, a seething volcano of jealously was ready to explode.

"And then I'd be very glad, too" Frank agreed eventually. "Thank you"

"And for what?"Cyrus winked with his most dazzling smile, and Frank thought he could have fainted in that moment.  
  


 

"So Frank, has my Cyrus been good lately or he had already shot down some Spanish corsair?"

Isabelle was probably trying to make a joke, but any laughter – even a fake one – died in Frank's throat when she defined Cyrus as _hers_.

He cleared his voice and smiled, raising to his lips the glass full of red wine. "I can assure you, if we happen to meet Spanish pirates, those two things would coincide, Madame"

"Well said," Cyrus whispered from the other end of the table, looking at Frank sideways.

For a while there was no different sound but the cutlery ticking on porcelain dishes, but Frank could easily see the nervous twitching of Isabelle's eyes, probably trying to say something.

"And you? How are things?" she asked him, indeed.

Frank tried to hold back an annoyed sigh. "I - uhm... I don't think I have special news to talk about. I'm sorry, I guess I'm not that much of a company..."

"Don't be stupid, Frank!" Hamilton scolded him, with an overwhelming energy in his voice. "The best company you can give is your presence itself, it's always been so! Don't you remember? You were the taciturn little boy and I was the talkative and hyperactive one"

At that image, Isabelle put a hand on her mouth to cover her melodious laugh, while Frank tried really hard not to blush.

"We've been friends for all of our lives. There's a reason if I never get tired of your company, right?"

Frank smiled, remembering – with the same pleasure and tenderness as ever – those times when they used to dwell with wooden swords, chasing after chickens, wearing short shorts without feeling ridiculous. In his memory, days when they weren't together didn't exist anymore, it was like a whole universe of long gone happiness. He didn't even exactly remember when he found himself in love with Cyrus. Not that it wasn't something much newer than their childhood, he had always known it, because that love was like a part of him by now. It hadn't been like a intruder sneaking inside his heart suddenly, but more like it was his heart itself and each one of its walls. In a way, he had always loved Cyrus. Back then he was only too young and naive to understand it, but perhaps that was exactly what he missed the most about his childhood; being carelessly happy, unaware of all the suffering that the adult life would have brought. Unaware of what unreciprocated love meant. And, worst of all, he missed having Cyrus all for himself, a bachelor exactly like him, a guy who didn't need more than the time he spent with his best friend.

"Speaking of company," Isabelle spoke again, like an untiring machine. "Why do I never see some nice girl around?"

And with that Frank almost choked on his bite of meat. He coughed loudly and slammed his fist against his chest.

"Er..."

"You're an handsome young man. And you're a soldier... women are really attracted to men in uniform, you know..."

Saying that, Isabelle locked eyes with his husband, taking his hand on the table and stroking his skin with her fingertips. And Frank didn't know whether to hate more that image or the fact that the wife of the man he loved was asking him about his conquests.

Isabelle then looked back at him, waiting for an answer, so Frank reached into his mind for a valid explanation, possibly something more appropriate that "I only love your husband".

"I – uhm..."

He began, but a strange and alarming noise interrupted him. The sound of an explosion, very far away.

And it came from the fort.

Isabelle was about to ask what was going on, but as soon as she looked at Cyrus and Frank, her blood froze, and for some reason, she rapidly realized what was happening.

"Cannons," Frank gasped grimly.

"Come with me," was Cyrus' dry reply, when he got up quickly from the table.

The young soldier followed him and was led back to the hallway of the house, where locked in a closet there was a small armory, with firearms hung like scarves. Cyrus gave Frank a pistol – to put in his belt – and a shotgun – to grip firmly like it was part of his own arm.

"I didn't know you had a personal collection"

Hamilton took the same weapons for himself, closed the closet and held the key between his fingers.

"You know why they made me Commodore?"

"Because you look good with a hat?"

Cyrus laughed a short, forced and nervous laugh. "No, it's because I'm always ready for anything"

He then turned around, sure to find his wife behind his back; in fact, he met her face, so anxious that his heart slowed for a bit in apprehension. They stared in each other's eyes, saying with just a deep look exactly what they didn't have time to say. Finally, Cyrus put the key in her hands, with the same seriousness with which he had given firearms to soldier Iero.

"If they approach the house, you know what to do"

Isabelle nodded frantically, clutching the key to her chest. And for a moment Frank felt sorry for the panic he could read on her face, until Cyrus leaned to kiss her cheek, making Frank hate her all over again.

He opened the front door, prompting his superior to just go with him.

On the streets, the two of them found people running everywhere, in a kind of self-managed evacuation. And Cyrus Hamilton knew exactly where to go: a soldier must always take the direction from which all the others run away.

Every so often they crossed civilians who recognized them even without uniform, hearing them shouting " _They are there, they are at the port! Help_!", as if saying that could make them feel safer.

On the way, Frank met Joshua's gaze, one of his fellows soldier who where in duty that night.

"Sir," he said, turning to Cyrus and starting to march with them. "Our superiors sent me to call you immediately"

"What the hell is going on?" the Commodore asked.

"Pirates, Sir".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the first chapter of the story, it's short but it took me months to translate because it's the first time I do things like this and school is hell, but I hope you'll be able to appreciate this story as much as I do, because it's one of my favorites ever.  
> And let's fall in love with Red Crow all together, because oh, you'll see...
> 
> I want, first of all, thank the original author of this fanfiction, HeartBreath (hi, Vin) and the rest of the team who is translating the other chapters right now! Love you girls ✨
> 
> Also, the drawing at the top is mine, as some of you probably knows, if you come from my account on Instagram (@stray_ashes). I wanted to say hi to all of you then, and thank you for your constant support.
> 
> See you in the next chapter,
> 
> _Stray_Ashes ~


	2. The Raid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Translation]  
> Original author: HeartBreath  
> Part 1 of the series "Why Are We So Incomplete?"  
> Chapter translator: TheWayHomeIsMars  
> Editor: Fantalstic

 

 

**2\. The Raid**

 

______

No one can choose the way they'll be remembered. Or at least, Gerard thought so.

 _No matter how hard you_   _undertake to build your image_ , he thought,  _that image will pass from mouth to mouth until it'll be completely redefined._

Things had gone fairly well to him, however.   
He reached the point of being feared enough that in some parts of the world people refused to believe in his existence. It was satisfying for him that someone, somewhere far away, was too frightened of him to admit that people like him could really exist. Maybe whole populations heard the name "Red Crow" and shivered deep within their souls. Maybe some others started thinking rationally in a weak attempt of calming down, relying on the improbability that a crew - able of plundering a whole city in one single night and then disappear forever without a trace - could really exist.

 _People believe in what they want to believe_ , Gerard recalled occasionally.

Red Crow's crew – captain that only few knew his real name – was made of the most unique talents in their kind. People that were able to kill as if is was a trivial act like a wave of a hand, or doing it blatantly by taking down twenty soldiers at the same time. Thieves smart enough to steal layers of clothes from a poor victim, that will notice it only when completely naked. Bloodthirsty gentlemen, geniuses that never attended school, outcasts of society, too extraordinary for common people to notice. All together they were a fully functional crime machine that were the only reason the Sea Nest was able to escape the British Military Navy as if nothing happened.

By now it's been six years that things were going this way, and Captain Way could swear that he would keep on until the day of his death. Despite he needed to rob nothing less than the heavily guarded and prestigious port of Haleback, even in the most desperate situations he wanted to have  _fun_.

While Red Crow was asking his arms a final effort of bearing the weight of his body in order to reach the window, from above he fleetingly saw his boatswain frightening two ladies. He had no doubt that the man could take both of them at the same time. The Captain grinned getting back to his climb.   


***

As planned, Mikey found two guards in front of the door.

"Holy shit" he said.

They immediately rose on their feet, aiming the rifles against him.

"I knew it. I was told to not come here alone" Mikey started ranting casually, shifting the gun from hand to hand.

"'Mikey you'll need help, someone who can cover your back' - most of the time it is my brother that cares about it, I got his back ever since I was born, but for once I wanted to scrape through this by myself, you see? And now look where I am. Maybe I should really give up and just carry my brother with me..."

And in that very moment, too fast for the guards to notice, the security door snapped open and Gerard appeared.

As planned Mikey shot one of the two soldiers while his brother had to kill the other one.   
There were two shots at the same time, but just one of the guards fell down.

Mikey and Gerard looked at each other quizzically.

"What's so hard about  ' _I'll take down the one on the left and you the one to the right?_ " Gerard yelled.

"I did shot the right one!"

"I meant  _my_ right side!"

The survived guard shifted the look between them and as soon as the two noticed, they aimed at his temples at the same time, just so they could keep arguing.

"You should have just told me!"

"It was obvious, you should know that I always think in function of myself"

"That's for sure and certain..."

"You know what you have just done? You have ruined my entrance! What will they say when the story of Red Crow and the glorious robbing of the Resurgent Gem will be told?"

"May I remind you that after killing him there won't be witnesses to tell how charming you were on your fucking entrance?!"

"Words spread, you young and naive Michael..."

"Let's go, moron"

Mickey pulled the trigger and the other guard finally fell down too.

"I just shot at  _your_  right side, happy now?".   
  
***

In a theatrical demonstration of his divine power, in 1701 the freshly crowned King Edward II ordered to take from the Britain Crown Jewels as much gems as the number of the conquered or colonized countries. Every person living in his Empire would be protected by a gem coming from the crown of the King, a King elected by the 'Almighty Lord', and this way the King himself could protect the peace and the safety of his population.

Obviously it was a pure and simple superstition but the Englishmen seemed to believe it, so uprising and conflicts were avoided only because of the belief that God would have listened to their request, because God was now down there, next to them in every moment while each country jealously preserved their  _Resurgent Gems._

To Gerard it was just a stone hidden on top of a tower, and for sure it wasn't different from any other gem that he had already hidden in the hold of the Sea Nest.   
However, he also knew that, for having it back, the governor of Halebeck would have paid much more money for that single gem than every smuggler could paid for all the other gems that Red Crow kept on his ship.

If the village would find out that the Resurgent Gem had been stolen, people would start to think that God abandoned them and at that point chaos would break out.  
It was worth planning the most dangerous plan of his life to have that shiny stone.

But when Mikey and him saw dozen of soldiers running after them, despite he would have never admitted it to anyone else, Gerard thought that maybe he did something wrong. Perhaps he blew in the horn too early to call the retreat, maybe someone who was supposed to distract the guards had ran away toward the ship for quite a while, maybe he should have got ashore a few more member of the crew.

The harbor was not far but Gerard doubted they could reach it before the guards reached them.

"C'mon! We're almost there!" Mikey shouted rounding the corner and spinning the run.  
He had always been the fastest, maybe because he was skinny as a rail. Mikey turned back just in time to catch in his hands the little jute bag that was tied to Gerard's belt until that moment: the Resurgent Gem.   
Mikey stared at his brother, speechless .

"Go back to the Nest! I'll block them!"

"What?!"

"If I won't come back before the last member of the crew, go away without me."

"But Gee..."

Mikey couldn't pretend that he was merely leaving his captain behind. Their business was dangerous and it had already happened that they hadn't known for months if the other one was alive, but Gerard taking the risk of not sailing away just to save him was a whole different thing.

The older brother looked at Mikey with a harsh look that didn't allow replies, "This is an order".

Gerard turned back behind the corner, waiting for the soldiers to arrive, and Mikey couldn't do anything  but start to run to the opposite direction of his brother, holding tight in his fingers the stone enveloped in the filthy juta bag that was belonged to a pirate that was fool enough to prefer staying there instead of running away.

Mikey was already far from Gerard's sight when the guards found him. Gerard behaved as if he had just realized he's being chased, then he quickly turned into the nearest alley and most of the soldiers followed him but some of them headed toward the way from which Mikey escaped. Instinctively Gerard pulled the trigger, killing three of the four soldiers, but then the other ones behind his back pointed their rifles at him and Gerard got stuck in the place, not knowing where to hide to not get killed.

"Don't shoot" said someone behind the soldiers.   
They obeyed, turning down the weapons and letting the man from whom came the order pass ahead of them.   
He was a distinguished person, even if dressed like a normal civilian, and if those men had took an order from him he should have been some sort of General or a Lieutenant, just taken aback from a peaceful August's night.

Gerard caught the man smiling bitterly.

"I've waited for a long time the day where I'd be able to personally send you on the gallows, Red Crow. Or should I call you Captain Way?"

"Have I ever beaten you at poker, maybe? Because you seem to hate me a bit and I don't remember seeing you before. Y'know, I'm usually dead drunk when I challenge people on playing cards"

"Oh, I'm just a soldier who took part to many expedition organized to find your ship"

A harsh laugh escaped from Gerard's lips, as if the man had just told him he had been searching for a bear lost in the middle of the sea.

"I cannot give up the possibility of seeing you swinging down from the noose Way, so why get you shot now?" the soldier grinned, before calling out the others guards and saying, "Take him away".   
  
  
***

When Mikey grabbed the curb of the Sea Nest to pull himself up on board he found a hand offered by Oliver, the boatswain that had just returned to the ship too.  
Mikey took his hand while two other men were yanking the ropes to pick up the boat.

"Where's Gerard?" Oliver asked, but Mikey hesitated before uttering the most difficult order ever given to him.

"Mikey, where is he?"

He took a deep breath and clenched his fists how hard as he could.

"He said to move away from the bay as soon as the last crew member come back"

The men on the deck looked at each other with a frozen look on their faces.

"What?"

"Mikey..." Oliver stared at his boots for a moment before looking again in Mikey's eyes,  "You were the last one left".   
  
***

The beams of the cold sunrise started touching the rooftops of the highest buildings in Halebeck, but that wasn't enough to make the general's feeling of devastation disappear.

There were few sounds, just the murmur of the people, low and lugubrious, it was like no one wanted to take the  risk of waking up the just quieted avalanche. People were walking around the streets looking for something to fix their issues with, an injured relative, a shoulder to cry on, a corner to scream in peace, a hammer to fix new walls for houses and pubs. Someone was melting in tears, but not many dared to break the glim calm with real shouting.

"Don't worry, someone will come to pick you up anytime now" Frank whispered, kneeled in front of a man with both his legs injured, he was a lure seller on his way to old age. Frank grabbed the man under his armpits and carried him to a bed in that half destroyed house of him, while the man was begging for answers from Heaven, asking how he was supposed to get by with his lower limbs amputated. In the meanwhile the man's wife sustained his head with the ample and soft fabric of his modest dress.

That house suffered the collapse of the main door, so when the three guys meant to come in arrived they didn't even found something to knock on, "Thanks for taking care of him, now we're on it" said one of them; they must have been sent by Doctor Grimbert.

Frank nodded and got up on his feet to go out to the street again taking with him the heartfelt thanks of the wife of the lure seller and enjoyed that feeling, as always . He didn't expect anything back for little things like that because altruism was his work, help other people was what he did. Anyhow Frank had to admit that getting such a sincere "thank you" was always a welcomed reward.

Out of the house of the baits seller, in that very moment, Frank saw Hamilton coming down the street. He didn't look like he was going to slow down, so Frank started walking with him, wherever he was going. After all, it was what Frank had done for his whole life.

"Cyrus, what's wrong?" Frank asked trying to meet his eyes but without any success.

The Commodore sighed, lowering his tired eyes on the anguish scene all around them. "Too many injured, too many dead. It's not how it's supposed to be. I should have everything under control, I should be ready for everything".

"You have been," Frank said grabbing him by the arm and forcing him to stop and face him, "You were there on the first line to fight those rats, what more can you ask from yourself?"

"Find a way to avoid all this"

"There are things bigger then us in this world, you know that. There wasn't a way to avoid all of this"

Cyrus didn't reply, hands on his hips and a tired look.

"What's the result of last night?" Frank asked with raspy voice.   
"Aside from the destroyed village you mean? Pirates irrupted in many houses, they have injured and murdered several civilians and soldiers. We're still counting the corpses". The Commodore stopped, looking thoughtful, "I just don't understand why they didn't take much apart from personal things from the places they broke in..."

The soldier frowned. "So they just murdered and created some chaos? Is this something that they usually  _do_?"

"No, and that's the point. Our village is the most surveilled of the surrounding area, why risking so much without any logic?"

For several moments, between them, there was just a thick silence made up by thinking, questions and concern.

"There's good news though" Cyrus said suddenly . "We managed to catch the captain, a bastard that have been frightening these coasts for years. Have you ever heard about Red Crow?"

"Vaguely".

All that Frank knew about that pirate was that he seemed surprisingly good at vanishing from the world's eyes, and probably from those of God himself.

"You'll have your chance to know him better: I found you a location for tonight"

"... I have to guard Red Crow?"

"Is that a problem?"

Frank let his gaze wander around the streets of his hometown, watching the streets where he played and ran now covered in rubble, tears and blood.

"No, it's just..." Frank sighed. "He's the one who ordered all this. He  _made_  all this"

"Don't worry, Frank" Hamilton reassured him with a pat on the back. "That vile creature will have his neck decorated with a elegant rope in no more than twenty-four hours. I'll meet the Governor and the Lieutenant tonight to set the arrangements about the assault of last night, but they shouldn't object when I'll propose the execution of Red Crow at the first light tomorrow. He'll get what he deserves, I promise you".

Frank just nodded, not having anything better to say or to do.

"Don't worry about him, you don't have to play the nursemaid, just be sure he can't escape. Nay, I'm the first who'd prefer if you just won't have anything to do with him"

Frank frowned. "Wait, why?"

"Because that man is incredibly smart, Frank" Cyrus said. "Even if what he says could seem innocent, it's better if you don't encourage him, okay?"

The soldier nodded again, assimilating any advice.

"Don't even give him a hint of Frank the country boy. You are soldier Iero from now on, the hand of justice that those worms will fear, the steady and impassive gaze that will watch them like God's eyes till the moment of their death. You have to convince them of this, don't let anything distract you".

"Yessir"

That afternoon, Hamilton repeated at least five other times that " _Red Crow will have what he deserves"_ and Frank couldn't say if it was because he believed it for real or because it wasn't Frank the one he was trying to convince.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Sharon, one of the translators of this story. I just wanna say few things: I loved this story since the first chapter I read, I've always thought that this was a story that deserved to be shared with all the world and I'm so glad to be part of this project now.  
> I'm also very thankful to the author Heart_Breath in first place to created a such amazing thing, and then to letting us share her work.  
> I hope you all will love the story as much as we already do c:


	3. Golden Smirk

 

 

 

Chapter translator:  @Anna_1895

_______________________________

 

 

"You're late" Killian spat as soon as the gloomy light of the wall sconces made Frank's face visible.

That was the man who had made Frank know the meaning of hate, back at their time of training. He was that trip in the canteen that had made him drop the bowl of soup, he was the rude word in the blackest day, the shove that during the races under the rain had made him fall in the mud. A bother that Frank would never have wanted in his way.

"It's just six minutes," he specified in a hoarse murmur. He wasn't in the mood for the man's antipathy, it was already too much bearing to share with him a contact – verbal, visual, of any kind – at the changing of the guard.

"Jesus, Iero, I have to pee!"

With a grimace of disgust – he hated such indecency – he reached out to get the keys of the cell. Killian slammed them into his hand without so much grace and quickly disappeared from his sight.

It was a mechanic and habitual gesture the one of placing himself in the same position as the fellow he was replacing: shoulders against the small angle that the wall formed before it surrendered the small room and the cell, in order to be vigilant at the same time between both the prisoner and the entry.

Only after several minutes he noticed that there hadn't been a single sound from the cell since he arrived, so he shifted his gaze a little to the left and, with the corner of his eye, checked that there was still someone in there. He wouldn't have been surprised to find out that Killian had fallen asleep during the guard shift, giving the prisoner a chance to escape.

Instead, at the bottom of the minimal space of the cell, he could glimpse a figure thrown down in the shadows. And Red Crow was there, back against the wall, sat on the little pile of straw that replaced the comfort of a bedroom, a room and a toilet altogether. Guarding at the jail was the least favorite part of his job, because it put him in contact with the most miserable vileness of humanity.

He decided not waste time watching the man, remembering what Cyrus had recommended him.

" _Don't even give him a hint of Frank the country boy. You are soldier Iero, from now on_ ,"

Yes, Cyrus.

" _The hand of the justice that those worms will fear,"_

Yes, Cyrus.

" _The steady and impassive gaze that will watch them like God's eyes till the moment of their death. You have to convince them of this, don't let anything distract you_ ".

Yes, Cy-

"Do they enlist 12-year-olds, now? I didn't know"

Frank took a second to make sure he hadn't imagined those words, that they weren't just in his mind – allergic to the juxtaposition of the silence, the solitude and the darkness.

He looked again towards the cell and realized that the prisoner had raised their head. After some seconds he got used to that distant darkness and was confirmed that yes, his look was now returned; two elegant eyes were staring at him, between strands of dark greasy hair.

"C'mon, I mean... how tall are you? Four feet?" mocked him the man hidden in the shadows. His voice was sharp as much as his tongue, cruel and broken.

"It's none of your business" Frank cut short, after searching carefully the most detached answer he could think of. But then... "And I'm 5'6, by the way"

He immediately bit his tongue. Why did he do it? Confidence was the last thing to be given to a prisoner, and he _knew it_. Still, he was pretty sensitive about his height.

"I bet that if I took that ridiculous hat of yours and raised my arm over your head, you wouldn't reach it!"

"Shut up" he ordered him, making the raspiest and most impressive voice he could master.

"Ehi, it was a joke!" the prisoner giggled. "What's wrong with wanting to spend my last hours chatting a bit?"

"You should spend them praying for your soul – assuming that you still have one – and feeling remorse for your sins"

"Which sins?"

Frank went back staring straight ahead of him, while a cruel smile showed up on his lips. "If you look carefully at the place you're in and think hard, I'm sure you'll come up with something"

The other stood up without an apparent reason and raised his thumb, pointing it to an invisible external world.

"Are you talking about the plunder? That wasn't a sin, but a necessary bother! A sin is raping your sister or killing someone..."

"Oh yeah, you never did something like that, didn't you?" Frank asked, although he well knew the answer.

_Why do I keep on talking to him?_

"I don't have a sister, but it could have happened to me to deprive one or two people of...the capacity...of breathing..." he babbled.

"See? There's a reason if you're here"

"But why does it matter to your general, captain – or whatever he is – if I killed those people? He didn't know them, so he won't miss them..."

" _Commodore_ Hamilton," Frank articulated contemptuously, "has the duty of granting justice in the city and safety for the citizens. That means that whoever attacks us must be punished".

Red Crow took a few steps towards the bars and Frank – no matter how hard he tried, dammit – couldn't stop himself from shifting his look again. The curiosity of seeing the face of the man he was talking to prevailed.

The light of the candlesticks, even if weakly, illuminated him. His features weren't harsh as the ones of the pirates he had seen hung in the gallows, and his face was covered by nothing more than a very light layer of facial hair. His eyes were even more watchful under the light, his hair was fuzzy, colored with an intense and almost hypnotic shade of red. His smile was made of teeth so small they seemed countless – and that smile itself was completely out of place: pirates didn't seem to know which situation was appropriate for a smile, as if they took nothing seriously. Some of those teeth, by the way, as you could often see among men like him, were made of gold. Obviously, he was dressed in rags; two-bid trousers, boots and a rumpled and discolored shirt.

"Iero, right?"  
  
  
Frank frowned, defensive. For some reasons, the fact that he had bothered to remember the name Killian had pronounced before storming away annoyed him even more.  
  
"And so?"  
  
  
The pirate shrugged, half-closing his eyes and raising his pitch black eyebrows.  
  
"Nothing, it's weird as a name"  
  
  
"Mind your own business"  
  
  
"You invite me to do so only when you feel up against the wall, did you notice?" he grinned, backing away from the bars to hide again in the darkness. "You're irascible. I like it"  
  
  
Frank opened his mouth with the full intention of fighting fire with fire, but the pirate didn't give him the time: "How can you stay caged in that uniform? It seems to weight a ton! I'm going to reach the temperature of the sun here, I swear..."  
  
  
Frank got a glimpse of him trying to fan his face with a hand. He was about to look away, annoyed, but at the last second something drew his attention; the pirate freed the shirt from his pants and grabbed its edges to take it off. He finally breathed a sight of relief and rubbed a hand on his nape.  
  
  
He had broad and muscular shoulders, and so were his arms. Weird: pirates were pirates basically because they didn't want to work, in fact they always were all skin and bone or really fleshy. On his body there was a bit of something that wasn't exactly muscle mass, but this detail seemed to make his figure a perfect balance between strength and feebleness.  
  
  
Just after some seconds, Red Crow noticed he was being observed. The soldier, on the human verge of embarrassment, immediately looked away from the man's naked chest.  
  
  
"Oooh, I understand..." he gloated smugly, with a delight that pierced Frank's eardrums and made his heart pump hard for the anxiety. "You like what you see, don't you?"  
  
  
Frank didn't answer, he kept on staring at the wall in front of him, feeling his face burning up more and more.  
  
  
"I had found it weird, the way you talked about your commodore..."  
  
  
Frank swallowed. "What do you mean by... weird?" He couldn't come up at all with the domineering tone he would have wanted, the one he thought he had a moment before the man had taken off his shirt.  
  
  
The pirate ran his hands over the thin fabric, like he was trying to fold it.  
  
He moved again towards Frank. "It reminded me the way a cabin boy used to talk about me, years ago. With... respect... devotion... esteem...". He stopped a few inches away from the bars and his eyes shined with mischievousness. He hissed: "...and with a bad crave to mount me".  
  
  
Frank's eyes darted on him again. "Commodore Hamilton is a highly respectable member of our community and I-"  
  
  
"And you'd love to work with his highly respectable member"  
  
  
Frank burst forward, instinctively pointing the rifle against the pirate, and its sharp blade brushed one of the bars. "Don't you dare say something like that ever again, is that clear?"  
  
  
The other took a step backwards and rose his hands as a surrender, but looking at his face, he was obviously still fooling him. "Hey hey, calm down soldier. Remember you can't shoot me."  
  
  
Frank bared his teeth, once again following the simple instinct. He would have wanted to end him there, in that moment. But he didn't move.  
  
  
The prisoner seemed amused by the anger he was reading in his eyes. "I bet you have figured it out only lately," he grinned. "Yeah, you look like a boy who hasn't even told his parents. Have you ever lain with a man? Have you ever felt the heat of a massive and hard body against you?"  
  
  
Frank felt blown away by that question. His gaze froze and his lips barely moved, guided by a non-existent sound.  
  
  
"Oh, that is a no..." Gerard whispered. He took another, last step, in order to reach the bars, where he rested a forearm over the height of his head. "Well, you're giving me some entertaining last hours, allowing me to make a fool of you, the least I can do is offer you a round."  
  
  
Frank stung Gerard's chest with the tip of the rifle, making him retreat again. "Shut up, you scum!". He was furious, but not with him - with himself, for the power he was letting this man have on him.  
  
  
"I know you'd like it. Shooting me, I mean." the man specified with an allusive smile. "You fervently wish to kill me, silence me, shut me up with your own hands. How much do you want to pull that trigger? Too bad you can't. My end must be by the hand of a executioner nominated by the governor, through an execution overseen by the Commodore and handed out by the king of England. If you killed me now, you wouldn't be different from me, you would have taken the life of a man without a good reason".  
  
  
"Your filthy tongue would be a more than sufficient reason," Frank growled.  
  
  
The other's smile did nothing but widen. "Ad who tells you I didn't have the same reasons to kill?".  
  
  
Once again, the young soldier was left dumbstruck by his words. Again he gasped for air and _again_ he hated himself for that.  
  
  
"You see, Iero?", the prisoner whispered. "We're all sons of God in the darkness".

 

***

 

"We have to go back".

  
Oliver was expecting such a sentence from Mikey, but a part of him would have wanted to not even try to talk about that. Not because he disagreed, but because he knew the crew would. So he tried to make him desist before he could repeat that sentence louder to all the deck. He focused on the practical side: "They would expect it Mikey. We took advantage of the element of surprise the first time, but now they have our captain, they surely know we could come back there and they have strengthened the surveillance. It would only manage to get ourselves killed."

  
"And what about Gerard?"

  
"Gerard is already dead. You know God's executions are done at dawn. Even if we turned the ship around, we couldn't arrive in time". Instinctively, he squeezed his fingers around the rudder, almost as he was afraid that the other part of himself would convince him to move it towards the port.

  
"They can't kill him because we have their gem. We can make an exchange".

  
"Let's do something: go say this bullshit to the crew and if you'll be back still in one piece, we'll talk about it properly".

  
He thought he had closed the book, but he was underestimating the madness of the Way family.

  
"All right," Mickey agreed, going toward the deck without hesitation. He stopped at the top of the stairs and watched from above the crew busy working.

  
"Mine was a joke!" he heard Oliver's shout from behind, knowing he would probably have followed him if he hadn't been holding the helm.

  
"We can't leave Gerard in the hands of the English Navy. We have to come back and at least try to save him".

  
"The only thing we would be trying is suicide," a cabin boy said, encouraged by a roar of general approval.

  
"It won't happen, if we exchange his life with the Renascent Gem".

  
The answer was a drone of disapproval.

  
"Gerard stayed to give us a chance of survival! Don't you think we owe him something?"

  
"Many of us fell behind, why should we act differently for him now?" asked Grent, the tallest and boniest sailor of the crew.

  
"He's our captain!"

  
"You don't want to save him because he's the captain, but because he's your brother!"

  
"He's right!"

  
"I say we keep the gem and we go on as planned"

  
"Yes!"

  
"Wise words!"

  
"Grent," Oliver shouted from the driving position. "Since you're so motivated, why don't you come here to hold the helm? Running".

  
The sailor obeyed, climbed the stairs taking two steps at a time and disappearing from the crew's sight while Oliver appeared. The boatswain sized up all of them, looking harsher than ever.

  
"You could have told me your mummy was right when she told you that you were bad and ugly boys, at least I would have spared myself all these years travelling with you. Just because the world sees us as prideless and dickless criminals, it doesn't mean that out of the blue we should really become like that. Gerard searched you one by one, he offered you a chance of freedom, and if I'm not mistaken he even went picking up some of you in jail. You were all losers alone in the world before Way came, and look at you now! We are a crew. We work together, this is the only way it can work. I'm not saying to go bring the Governor the gem we worked so hard to obtain, I just encourage you to turn on those shellfish's brains you've got and think". He remained silent for an instant, like he was following his own advice, then he went back to talking: "Gerard's a son of a bitch just like us, right? I don't think he told us to sail off to get himself killed. I know him well, he's certainly waiting for the right moment to flee. But when this will happen, if we're halfway around the world, he would die anyway. I say we get close to the bay enough to be found by him, but not enough to be seen by the Halebeck Navy.  
This way we will have both our captain and the bargaining chip with the Governor."  
  
The crew members looked at each other and Oliver found courage in the now unsteady certainty of their selfishness. He had shaken them, he had talked in the right way. He hoped he wouldn't come to regret it.

  
"Look at it this way: if there's someone worth risking for, at least a bit, it's captain Way. What do you say, men? Are you pirates or the dregs of humanity?".

  
A racket of triumphant voices answered the boatswain and a smile lit Mikey up.

  
"Grent," he said looking backward. "Turn the tide, immediately". He enjoyed the sailor's grunt and then addressed the man next to him.

  
"Thanks, Olly" he whispered, patting him on the back.

  
"If you make us all go to the graveyard, we'll see each other in Hell and rest assured that I won't make the eternal rest easy for you" Oliver hissed, letting his falsely smiling gaze wander over the still jubilant deck.

  
"I count on it, old boy" Mickey told him before he walked away.

  
The ship turned the tide and the first officer could swear he felt satisfaction in the air, and it wasn't coming neither from the crew nor from himself. It was like the Sea Nest was happy to go and to get his captain back.  
  
***  
  
When dawn broke in from the tiny window of the cell, soldier Iero was allowed to go, but before he could disappear his replacement - Joshua - told him the Commodore wanted to see him immediately.  
  
Yelding to a loud yawn only after his shift was over, Frank prayed that Cyrus was going to ask him just a brief report of the past night of guard, because he really needed to get some sleep.

  
When he gave way to Joshua, Red Crow said goodbye with a cheerful "It's been a pleasure", which annoyed him even more. He tried - Hell if he tried - to shut him up, but he had kept on talking like he hadn't noticed how it was getting on Frank's nerves. Pointless: the pirate had decided to spend his last night on Earth mocking a poor Navy soldier who was just trying to do his job. All the better, Frank wasn't going to dislike knowing he was in Hell. He didn't even take a last look, he didn't allow himself to think "May God have mercy of his soul". He didn't desire that at all. All he wanted was that such an obnoxious being had as soon as possible the punishment he deserved, as Hamilton had said over and over.  
  
His hands slammed on the desk of sanded wood.

  
"Tell me you're joking".

  
Cyrus, that was currently watching outside the wide window with his hands behind his back, frowned addressing Frank.

  
"Why on earth would I joke about this?".

  
"So tell me why," his subordinate prayed him. "Please, tell me why that human waste should be allowed to live another day".

  
Despite how wild his wrath was, with a single glance of firmness Cyrus put him back at his place. The soldier went back addressing his Commodore with respect and caution.  
"Yesterday night two dead bodies were found at the top of the tower of the fort".

  
Frank paled, understanding immediately and Cyrus saw in that expression the reaction he had had himself, founding out what had happened.

  
"Now it's clear what was the target of those scoundrels: they took the Gem. The Governor is furious, we're trying to keep this thing between us to avoid scaring the people, but this could be the right occasion to wipe Mr. Way's crew off the face of the earth. We can force him to tell us something about where his ship is headed or where he generally tends to hide when he disappears".

  
"That man is the captain of a pirate ship. Pirates run away from the law all their life: they are very close. He will never tell you where his ship is".

  
"This conclusions are not for you to draw," the Coomodore reminded him, with harshness in his voice. "Your job is to follow orders. My orders. Clear?"

  
Cyrus seemed more serious than ever. That disastrous situation, without doubt, had stressed him a lot. It wasn't so improbable that he was this tense after all.

  
Tight-lipped and defeated, the boy nodded.

  
He had no intention of telling him that that man - captain Way - had broken all his walls of coldness. He didn't feel like telling him he had failed, had diregarded orders, had talked with a prisoner. He didn't feel like telling him how much he hated that pirate either.

  
"Let me finish," Cyrus told him, with a calmer tone. "While we will be interrogating Way, there will be men on watch who will warn us as soon as a pirate ship is spotted. In case that crew of miscreants wanted to make an exchange and give us the gem in order to get their captain back, we'll be ready to retrieve what interests us and bomb that tub. After all, we're playing on our home ground and this time we must take advantage of it".

  
Frank didn't say anything when his mind was touched - even if barely - by the thought that it wasn't a honorable plan. It wasn't certainly fair to aim the cannons at the other part of an exchange. But on the other hand, they were pirates: more beasts than human beings. No one, not even God, would cry if they died.

  
"Go get some rest, Frank" Cyrus sighed. "Sleep a little, have a relaxing bath. I want you viglilant and watchful again tonight"

  
"Yes, sir..." he replied, once more feeling in his chest the nervousness that seeing again that golden smirk was going to cause him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone:) Finally Frank and Gerard met each other! What do you think of their first encounter? I hope you liked this chapter, it's one of my favourite. If you notice any mistake, please let me know, it would be really appreciated! I would like this translation to be as good as the original story, but since English is not my first language I need some help. A huge thank you to Stray_Ashes for being my beta and to our editor Fantalstic. And of course thanks to HeartBreath, the characters of your story have become very dear to all of us! Bye,  
> Anna


	4. The Hanged Man

  
  
  
  
  
Chapter translator: **@gretamustdie**  
  
  


**\--------------------------------------**   
  
  
  


"We have to take him away."

Those words made Gerard's ear twitch faintly. Taking it easy, he let the weak light of the prison seep in through his eyelids, and then he opened his eyes.

The sun hadn't barged into the cell at its highest violence, even through that small window above his head. It wasn't noon yet, so he had slept just for a few hours.

He almost didn't hear the protests of his eyelids, dissatisfied by that brief rest: he was used to undersleep or, sometimes, not sleep at all. However, how could he have fallen asleep last night, with that new, amusing playmate?

He had been thrown into prison frequently during his life, but he was convinced that the model of the irritable and neurotic soldier boy was just a stereotype, a hilarious character from children's stories. It was also true that nobody would ever tell children what were RedCrow's intentions with a simpleton like that.

None of the guards of that fops' den seemed particularly smart. Nevertheless, after just one night with that guy, Iero, Gerard decided that his next victim would be _him_. Him, no one else. During his night shift he would have escaped, he would have fooled Soldier Iero. Showing off one of his magic tricks would have been boring with anybody else, too much easy. He preferred trying out something he had never done before: seduce a soldier. It would have probably been his most epic challenge.

The perky young boy of the diurnal guard looked at his two comrades-in-arms in front of him in an upset way.

"Does he have to be transferred?"

"Nah, the Commodore claims him just for a few hours. The necessary time and we bring him back here."

For some reason, those words said in order to scare Gerard didn't scare him at all.

In the half-light of the farther point of the cell, the gold of his teeth shone bright. After that grin, Gerard put his head down again and closed his eyes just for another moment, at least until he heard the guards open his prison cell.

Those men escorted him with detachment, without any word. He crossed the fort with them, handcuffed and watched by any other soldier they came across on their way. Eventually he reached a cell that looked vaguely like his, but with a real door and different furniture. He noticed two wooden columns a bit far apart, built at the center of that space.

The soldiers placed him between them, removed those handcuffs just for putting a new pair on him, these ones chained to the pillars.

Only then the guest of honor deigned him with his presence: that man, Commodore Hamilton, came into the room. At his following, a fellow who seemed everything except a serviceman, with wrinkled clothes and a cat-o'-nine tails in his hands.

"If I may say so, Commodore, you lack of fantasy. In Puerto Rico they wanted to hang me by my thumbs", Gerard said.

"Possible. But there's to say that our town has many other qualities instead of fantasy."

"For example?"

The Commodore got close to him, forcing him to create an eye contact to which Gerard would not objected in any case. "Efficacy."

They spent several minutes staring at each other in the eyes before the prisoner himself seemed interested in getting to the point of their meeting: "I guess I should ask you why I'm still alive, but I think I already know."

"Then enlighten me, Sir Way", Hamilton challenged him.

Gerard tried to find the right words to say it, but he didn't need a long time to think, as always after all. "You have noticed that you miss something, haven't you?"

The man leaned against one of the columns with his hand and stared at Way even more firmly and closely. "You stole the Resurgent Gem."

A perverted grin spread across the pirate's face. "Ops."

"Where is it?", Hamilton spelled carefully.

"Safe and aboard my ship, of course."

The other sighed, and after just another moment he backed away from the columns and held himself upright. "Okay, Way. You don't want to collaborate? I believe I know how to convince you."

_No, you don't have the faintest idea,_ Gerard contradicted him to himself. Hamilton didn't seem to understand his determination, since he didn't know his motivations. Beyond his lacking will of surrendering and letting himself die, beyond the possibilities of picking up the riches that he saw in the Resurgent Gem, he wouldn't have betrayed his crew for anything in the world. It would have meant confessing the Navy how to find his ship and Gerard would have never given them his beloved _Sea Nest_ , his freedom. And he would have never, ever given them Mikey.

Captain Way took a deep breath in order to encourage himself, with a surprisingly great sense of timing: he felt the quick, burning pain of the leather against his back exactly the next moment. He tried right away to concentrate on something that wasn't his flesh which, whiplash after whiplash, was being ripped apart without mercy. He chose something classic to think, what he often imagined on painful situations: those days when he and Mikey went home dirty and sweaty at the start of sunset, when they smelled the perfume of cookies and begged their mother to allow them a taste before she sent them to bathe.  
  
  


***  
  
  


An hour passed. Two hours passed. Then three.

Each of them was almost the equivalent of a whole day in Gerard's mind. But what he felt was only an inevitable suffering; he had no way to defend himself and imploring for mercy would have just led him to lose his dignity. And, obviously, he couldn't give Hamilton what he wanted. The option of putting an end to the whiplashes by confessing didn't even exist in his head. There was nothing to say at all.

Once, a palm reader told Gerard that his tarot card was the Hanged Man. The card in question portrays a man in an unfortunate situation - hanged on a tree by the ankles -, who doesn't waste time attempting to revolt against something bigger than him. The Hanged Man remains where he is, ponders, waits for the circumstances to become more favorable.

That was what Gerard Way did. He preferred to be patient and wait for the fate to stretch out its hand. He was sure that it would happen for some reason, sooner or later. It always happened.

"You're lucky, Way", Hamilton declared as if he was reading his mind. "I'm expected elsewhere now. But if I were you, I wouldn't gloat: your luck will be short-lived."

"It went on for twenty-nine years", Gerard panted, trying to hide the indescribable effort that represented talking. "So I beg to differ, Commodore."

The man stared at him for a few seconds with the hands behind his upright back. "Bring him in the cell again", he finally said. "We'll see if tomorrow you'll find me more _original,_ pirate."

Therefore the torture would have changed. Gerard hoped it would involve another part of his body because the skin on his back was burning to death.

He was literally dragged and thrown into the prison, abandoned to the anguishing perspective of bleeding wounds healing slowly in the darkness.

He spent the following hours sitting on the floor with his head between his knees, careful not to lean his back against the wall. It took him a very long time before he was able to breathe normally, without breathlessness.

But when the sun went down and the shift of the soldier guarding ended, Red Crow's eyes met the figure of his neurotic and adorable nocturnal playmate. And, unexpectedly, a sincere smirk appeared on his face.  
  
  


***  
  
  


After almost three entire hours of silence, Frank began to deceive himself thinking that that night would have passed without any useless chatters and annoying teasing.

His hopes died when he heard the prisoner's feared voice, which broke the silence with so much violence to make him flinch.

"I've decided to offer you a deal, lil' virgin"

_Oh, God..._

In that moment, Frank wanted to die. He began to consider the possibility of using the rifle in his hands to shoot himself down, just so he could avoid committing a murder and stop hearing him talking brazenly. Yes, he would have disobeyed Cyrus' order of keeping constantly an eye on the prisoner, but...

_But when he will discover it, I'll be long dead._

"Hey, are you listening to me?"

"I don't make deals with pirates", he growled, filling that epithet with all the disgust and scorn that he had in his beating heart full of rage.

Way seemed like he didn't even heard what Frank had said. He stood up and leaned his back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"If you help me getting outta here, before I go I'll scratch you that itch you want to get rid of _so bad._ "

"What itch-"

"Soldier", his voice, sharp like a razor, got serious for the first time since Frank had known him. Almost bored, actually. "I'm offering you a quickie."

The boy reacted with a revolted grimace, looking at him incredulously. That man, that human waste, didn't know what restraint was.

"I think you have misunderstood a lot of things, pirate."

That smirk. Again. That damn, gold-encrusted smirk. "Your eyes fixed on me last night seemed to think differently..."

Frank went back to study that spot in the wall - always the same one -, making it the only rope capable of saving him from Red Crow's lowness.

"So, are you interested?"

"Absolutely not."

"You're not a good liar, Iero."

The pirate still remembered his name. Every time he pronounced it, it seemed like he kept it as it was a treasure of gems, a weapon, a noose around its owner's neck. And this had begun to upset Frank, as well as irritate him.

"Are you used to sell your _virtue_ like that?", he squawked with the tone of someone who didn't want to know the response.

"My body for my life, it doesn't seem an unfair exchange to me."

"I suggest you to try with the diurnal guard."

What on earth was he doing? He was _joking_ with the prisoner?

He obligated himself to regain his composed attitude and stared more intensely at the spot in the wall as if this action made him stronger.

"Nah, he's married, even though he doesn't lie very often with his lady..."

_Joshua?_

"How the hell do you know that?"

"I'm good at giving replies by myself when I ask people questions." He perceived him smiling _again_ and Frank felt that grin on him like it was his fetid and heavy breath against his face. "You've probably noticed, too."

He shivered, but he tried not to show it. He kept quiet.

"So... doesn't my offer make you the least bit interested?"

"Nothing personal, but since I've met you all you're doing is causing me the continuous need of pucking somewhere."

He noticed he had once again unclasped his rope of salvation and let himself go in the tide, when he discerned the pirate grabbing for his heart in a theatrical way.

"You're breaking my heart, soldier-boy. I thought you liked me!"

Frank knew he was joking. Nonetheless a sarcastic snort came out of his lips.

"Let me know if you change your mind!"

And then, finally silence.  
  
  


***  
  
  


It had to be the middle of the night, by now, when a new sound reached Frank's ears.

The voice was the one of Way, but those weren't words. They were _noises_. For a second he believed that the prisoner was having a sudden illness and hoped to see him dying of natural causes sooner than he could have imagined. But, shifting attention to the left after hours of resistance, he glimpsed him in the darkness, sitting in a corner.

With an hand in his pants.

Frank blushed from head to toe and took his eyes off that scene.

"Wha- what are you doing?"

A gross, obscene moan resounded in the prison embarrassingly.

"Well, I have to make my last hours in this world pleasant, or not?"

"You have no shame, huh?", he yelled, outraged. "How can you do it in front of someone?"

"It seems like I don't have much choice. I remind you that you can leave whenever you want."

"I can't. I have to watch you!"

"Then enjoy the show, Iero..."

_Oh my God..._

The way he pronounced his name in that moment gave Frank a strange feeling. A sudden shudder crossed his back, like a whiplash. There was nothing he could have done to prevent it or at least to realize that before it was over.

"Stop it!", he growled through his teeth, frightened and horrified by his own reaction.

It was as if Way didn't hear a thing. He kept doing those immoral moans, without the slightest hint of shame.

Frank hated himself when he realized he was staring at him again.

"Uhm... mmh...", the pirate persisted to murmur.

"I told you to stop!", he shouted, rushing towards the bars.

"Why should I? It's so sexy seeing you blush while you look at me..."

A dull, fierce growl came out of him and he couldn't recognize himself anymore. What was he becoming because of the hatred he felt for that man?

"Keep watching, soldier. All you're doing is feeding my fantasies...", Way groaned, tossing his head back and tightening his eyes for a moment. "I bet it would be awesome touching that beautiful, pale skin you have... and taking out the first gasps of your whole life, while you give me your virginity with unbridled passion as if your existence depends on it... I can almost feel myself inside you... I can hear our voices merging together screaming and moaning... your hot and sweaty body melting and letting itself go under my touch..."

Only when Red Crow stopped talking, Frank realized he was _grabbing_ the bars of the pirate's cell with his free hand and leaning his elbow on them. It was like he knew he could have fallen on the floor at any moment. He wheezed and felt his legs weak as if they were made of butter.

He didn't have time to compose himself before Way surprised him in that condition.

He smiled like it was the greatest accomplishment of his life. "I can see you like the picture, too". His gaze focused on a point in Frank's figure that the younger searched with his eyes.

And that was when he noticed an evident bulge on his crotch.

He moved away from the bars, coming back to his location immediately, keeping his shocked eyes as far away from that man as possible.

"Oh, don't be ashamed, honey!"

"Don't call me 'honey', sewer rat", he spitted through his teeth, flared up and uncomfortable like he had never been before.

He felt the gaze full of disarming luxury of his prisoner on him and for a second he forgot he was the one with the rifle in his hands and the freedom in his life: he had the impression that he was the one who was caged and that Way was his personal executioner. He believed he was going to suffocate. His breathing speeded up for the lack of air, but he forced himself _not_ to open his mouth in order to _not_ emit sounds.

The frenetic sound of Way's hand rubbing against the fabric came back to his ears: he had started again with a faster rhythm. And he also got back to moan.

"Open the cell, Iero", his persuasive voice ordered him. "Come here and let me take you... I know you want it, too..."

Frank tried really hard to ignore those words, ignore the picture of Way's hand - more and more clear in his mind -, ignore how he was enjoying everything.

"C'mon..."

"Shut up," he hissed, but he noticed how much his voice was thick with hesitation right after he had heard it.

"C'mon, wouldn't it be exciting? A pirate and a Navy soldier... an immoral and irresistible attraction..."

Frank tried to stop his legs, which had suddenly started trembling. It had already happened before; it was caused by cold or, sometimes, by fear. But the sensation that was now shaking every fiber of his body was utterly unknown. It fogged his mind and his sight, it gave him the impression of being fragile as a blade of grass, it speeded up his heartbeat like he was sick, it made him flushed with frustration.

He hated and loved that sensation at the same time, exactly how he hated that pirate's gut, but in that moment he just craved to cancel the distance between the two of them.

"I'm here, boy", he kept wheezing. "I'm yours if you want me. There is nobody except us, no one will ever know..."

_I would be the one who knows_ , Frank thought, unable to respond properly.

Without knowing the reason why he was doing it, he took the iron ring where the keys were hooked from his belt. He touched lightly the one with the longest and most rusted body: Way's cell key.

"Do it", the prisoner groaned as if it was the voice of Satan that incites you to forget everything you have worked for during your honest existence, each ideal of yours, with the aim to make you fall into sin.

Suddenly, maybe for the first time in his life, Frank felt sorry for all the sinners of history, religion and mankind. All the killers, the scoundrels, the sons of Evil that he was always armed to contribute in their punishment... they didn't seem worthy of being judged so harshly by his spotless conscience anymore. Because if every sin had called them with the same tempting voice of Captain Way, perhaps it wasn't so inconceivable they had surrendered to it.

He refused to give in to that invitation and, after long minutes of pondering, he took the hardest decision: fighting against the evil in that prison cell and inside his soul. He hanged the ring of keys on the nail on the wall and exactly beneath he placed the rifle. He wasn't no longer in control of his actions and this scared him, therefore he decided to distance himself from any rushed choice. A part of him wanted to see the exposed skin of that massive and hard body again - and be the one who undressed it - but the other - full of rage - wanted to kill Way so bad. He was driving him insane and it was unacceptable. For this reason it was wiser to deprive himself of the possibility to choose with just one gesture - quicker than rational thoughts - about the death or the freedom of that man.

_It's my job to watch him,_ he remembered with difficulty. _And it's the only thing I'll do._

"How can you give up on that kind of opportunity?", Red Crow insisted lasciviously. "Let me take care of you, honey..."

"I told you not to call me in that way!"

Yet again, Frank rushed towards the cell bars. He thanked God for having put down his rifle or he would shot to him without thinking twice.

When the pirate pulled out the hand from his pants and stood up, the only thing that Frank noticed was the undeniable hardness of both of their pelvises. It was weird to be in a situation like that with someone, especially with a prisoner close to death. Maybe it depended on the fact that it was the middle of the night, but he felt like he was dreaming or drunk. Nothing seemed to make sense, but his perception didn't care that much. Frank found it extremely hard to keep his lucidity, to think rationally.

Way got close to the bars and Frank would have remembered that moment as the one where he discovered that Red Crow had green eyes. It was utterly insignificant, yet he couldn't help but pay attention to them for a second. Contrary to all the features which made him coarse and scruffy, those irises shone more than all the emeralds of England's treasure.

"Think about it, Iero. Ask yourself if you're struggling to say no to the pirate or to the man you've been guarding for the last two nights."

Frank wasn't aware of how much Way had drawn close to him until only the bars separated them. The prisoner was very rapid in grabbing his hip and yank it in a way which constrained him to get squashed against them. For some reason, Frank couldn't move any muscle, even when the fingers of the other Red Crow's hand got to grip his chin with charming determination. The limit of the bars was impossible to ignore, but Frank had never felt somebody so close to him. Actually, it was more suitable saying that he had never felt somebody _all over him_.

"Ask yourself what you'd lose if you do it...", the pirate whispered seductively, making Frank's legs shake again. Slowly but decisively, he brought his nose near the other one. "And what you'd lose if you don't do it..."

His intention was to silence the voice and the reality straight from Frank's mouth and, damn, if he was succeeding in it.

Frank could almost taste the contact with those thin, inviting lips... then he opened his eyes widely and, at the last second, he grasped for the extremity of the rock where there was the cliff in which Way wanted to make him fall. He pushed away the man screaming a _"No!"_ that echoed among the basement. He backed off with a step, or two, and then he distanced himself from the prison cell and the temptation.

He no longer had the idea of who Frank Iero was, the guy who was now staring at Red Crow like a vampire stares at sunlight.

"Why do you keep fighting me, boy?", the pirate carried on, undaunted.

Frank wasn't able to regulate his breath, to cast out the frustration from his body. He backed off a bit more, as if Way could reach him from that distance. He ended up crashing against the rifle and making it fall on the ground and he jumped, startled, when it happened.

There it was: all his pride, his self control, his devotion to the Crown of England and Commodore Hamilton. It all crumbled down with a breath impregnated with miserable, sleazy arousal, a rifle on the ground, and a _prisoner_ who had been about to _kiss_ him.

Overwhelmed by an unbearable shame of himself, Frank seized the weapon and the prison key and ran away as if that could erase Red Crow's existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, crew! Things start to heat up, mmh? I would lie if I said that I haven't chosen to translate this specific chapter because of, well, the content. What do you think about it? Honestly this is one of my favorite. When I read it years ago, this was the exact point when I thought to myself: "This story is gonna be epic!". I wouldn't mind if you report me eventual mistakes, English isn't my native language and I apologize in advance. If there are some of them, let me know and I'll correct them.
> 
> I would like to say a huge thanks to HeartBreath, the creator of "Give me your freedom", and to Stray_Ashes who is our beta.
> 
> And, of course, thanks to all of you, guys.
> 
> Greta


	5. Running Away

Original author: HeartBreath  
Part 1 of the series "Why are we so incomplete"  
Chapter translator: TheWayHomeIsMars

Editor: dangergays and Stray_Ashes

  
\-----  
I just wanna say sorry for the delay, we're trying our best.

Sharon.  
\---------------

 

 

There couldn't be a louder noise than the one of Cyrus' chair being pulled suddenly and his fists slamming on the table.

"You quit your position!?"

"Cyrus, I..."

"You left a prisoner alone?"

Frank gulped and took a huge breath before opening his mouth to speak, "I sent a replacement, they're made for that, aren't they?"

"Only in case of extreme urgency," spelled out the commodore. "In any case, never leave your position until the replacement has arrived. You ran away! All the guards last night said they saw you bolt out like a flash, may I know why?"

"...I couldn't stand it anymore. That scum was driving me crazy, he's the most vexatious and disgusting human being I have ever met!" said Frank with a voice that seemed almost desperate. It wasn't a lie either, but Frank didn't want to explain the details as of how Way irritated and disgusted him. Not with Cyrus, not with his Commodore. Not with anyone.

"Oh I'm sorry, my bad, I don't remember ordering you to 'keep your eyes on the prisoner, unless you find him unpleasant'!"

"Forgive me," whispered Frank, "It won't happen again."

"You can bet on it, if you don't wanna see me personally putting a noose around your neck! Do you have any idea how difficult it was trying to convince the Governor not to kick you out of the Navy? You're lucky that – whatever he said to you - wasn't one of Red Crow's strategies to be alone and try to escape."

Frank was surprised by Cyrus' attitude.

No doubt that the pirate tried seducing Frank to get the chance of getting away undisturbed. He probably couldn't even imagine what ruses Red Crow was capable of, but clearly, if he hadn't escaped when no one was watching him, the only way to do it was to make a perverse deal with a guard. Maybe he wasn't as sharp as everyone in Halebeck thought, so why did Cyrus have to be so angry at Frank?

"I'm really sorry, I don't know what else to say..."

Hamilton crashed down on the chair again, drained of energy by his anger itself. "Frank I... I really don't want to do this."

"Do what?"

"You're suspended," Hamilton said sharply, with no trace of pity to find in his voice "No payment, starting now. I'm sorry, but it's the compromise we agreed on so you wouldn't be dishonorably discharged... Furthermore, this incident will ruin your chances when they ask me to nominate a new lieutenant. You know, it's not only up to me to make the decision..."

"I know." Frank nodded, bitterly.

"I would've liked for you to stand amongst the others, Frank," said Hamilton with his eyes full of sincerity "Because you're an excellent soldier and I know it. If we had started our military career at the same time you would have most likely been upgraded to Commodore instead of me."

"I doubt that." Frank muttered gloomily.

Hamilton propped his arms on the table to bend towards Frank and look him straight in the eyes, "Do you know what the first thing I thought was when the Governor announced my promotion?" Cyrus asked and Frank shook his head, "That, at the right moment, I'd do everything in my power to make you my second in command. I worked hard to get this far, why would you stain your career like this?"

Frank felt those words burn his skin more than any suspension or earful, more than death itself. In the end, it didn't matter that Frank didn't give into the temptation of Satan: the devil dragged him to the hell anyway. Lust had made him weak despite his fiery opposition. He didn't fall into Way's arms, but he ran away and neglected his duty. He threw away everything, everything, by giving up to his weakness, to his incapacity of being in the same room with that pirate.

Frank had disappointed Cyrus. This was the most wounding thing that could have happened to him.

* * *

The same day, Hamilton didn't have any more work to do, so he went to the fort early in the morning. This would be the second time he visited the room where he stowed Captain Way away.

He found him exactly where he left him two days ago: hung by his wrists, worn out and with his head down. Hamilton recalled that when the prisoner had just arrived his prison, he stood on his tiptoes, since the handcuffs were hung high; however, now, he seemed to have made peace with the fact that it was a weak aid.

Long bangs of hair covered his face but the commodore knew that behind them there was the face of an exhausted man whom was soon to die. His clothes were also wet so the man in charge of guarding the pirate was doing a good job.

Sleep deprivation torture was as ancient and powerful method Cyrus hoped to never be subjected to. Ever since he was a child he'd been fascinated by the results of this practice. For two days straight now, Red Crow had been kept awake with a bucket of water whenever he fell asleep.

"How are you doing today, Mr. Way?" the commodore asked in a vaguely pleased tone.

The approached one lifted his head just enough to glare angrily, but somehow still amused, at the man in front of him; behind his big eyes with waning eyelids, despite his obviously exhausted face, Way was still trying to look superior.

"I'm tired."

The commodore grinned: "Oh, I know. Would you like to tell me something else?"

Red Crow parted his lips, chapped because of the lack of sleep, then he mumbled: "Yes, actually... It's more of... A qu-question really... What have you d-done with Mr. Iero?"

Cyrus stood still assimilating those words, keeping inside the anger he felt towards Way for bringing up Frank's suspension. If his friend lost his temper and gave in, it was only because filthy people like Way still existed in the world.

But I will root out all the nasty weed that's still here, the commodore promised to himself, I will do everything in my power to make a new world free of all of this threat.

"Mention him again, and I'll stop you from babbling any further." hissed Hamilton

"Cut o-of... my tongue so I-I won't say a-anything at all."

The commodore smirked. "That's what a man who's afraid to talk too much wants."

"No... That's just... w-what a man who's b-been told too many times that... h-he talks too much wants".

In that very moment two guards came in, the same people who escorted Mr. Way to this room two days ago. Cyrus had ordered them to come in a few minutes after him, so that by the time they arrived he would have obtained a confession or a blank. In either case, Way needed to be released because more sleepless nights would kill him, and even if Cyrus was craving to see Red Crow take his last dying breath, he couldn't die. Not yet.

The two guards asked Hamilton silently only with a look, for the permission to free the prisoner to take him to his cell, waiting for his nod.

I will bend you, Way. And I will do it for Frank.

*

They're not lovers, Gerard pondered, staring at the ground while he was being carried by the two soldiers. Iero was too frustrated and embarrassed that night since I found out about his secret, and Hamilton was not interested in talking about it. Still...

It was clear to him that something was going on between the two of them.

It was not a mutual love.

Maybe parenthood? That would explain why Iero was scared that someone would find out about his situation... Maybe it could be something so filthy, indeed.

Just friendship? It would make sense, especially considering how the eyes of the commodore suddenly froze when he mentioned the little Iero.

One thing was sure: Hamilton didn't know he was the subject of his subordinate's wildest dreams, whichever their relationship.

The question is: how could I use this to my favor?

Gerard's thoughts were broken when the guards, unceremoniously, threw him in his cell again. His muscles were aching because they hadn't been used in days, every inch of him screamed in pain when he hit the floor and it was even worse when Gerard tried to stand up.

Get up? Not after a few hours for sure.

Red Crow made an effort to lay on his back and then sighed heavily, but he couldn't slow his heartbeat down, which was speeding up both as an effect of the relief and the pain. It didn't even take him a minute before he fell in a deep sleep, just as deep as his beloved oceans.

*

Frank knew it wouldn't help to get out of his house: in or out it didn't matter, he felt useless. Whatever he did, he couldn't help but feel worthless, he didn't have a place in the world anymore because his place had always been beside Cyrus.

He wandered through his beloved village's streets, incapable of finding something that could console him; not the smell of freshly baked bread coming from of the baker's window, not the warm greeting of the bait dealer he helped the night of the assault. Wherever he turned there was nothing that could make him feel better; the thought of having disappointed Hamilton was burning his skin.

"Frank!" A familiar female voice called for him, and when he turned he saw Isabelle. She ran to him as if she wanted to hug him tightly, but when she reached him Isabelle simply just offered her hand to Frank, who gently put his lips to the back of her silk gloved hand.

"Good morning Mrs. Hamilton." He greeted her.

"Do you still not get that you've saved my husband and this village far too many times to still call me that?" Isabelle chuckled sweetly.

"Apparently not, madam," Frank smiled back at her, even if less convinced, "What brings you here?"

"I'm going to visit a friend of mine. Today's not too hot, so I decided to walk and enjoy the fresh air, instead of taking the carriage. And what about you? Where were you going?"

"I was going nowhere to be honest," Frank said, trying not to think about the fact that what he said was actually true, "I just wanted to walk a bit".

Isabelle tried to meet his gaze, anxiously, "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Haven't your husband told you that I've been suspended?"

Isabelle seemed sincerely surprised, "Oh Lord no, he hasn't told me anything yet. He barely talks to me at all lately, he's always on edge, worried, angry..."

"He's just stressed out, ma'am. He's close to executing the bastards who destroyed our village," Frank said, not knowing why he was saying this to her. Frank shrugged, "I shouldn't even be talking about these things, it's confidential information."

"You're telling me this to make me feel better. That's honorable," Isabelle was smiling again "I thank you for that. But I need to ask one more favor of you."

"How can I help?"

"Could you please talk to Cyrus? Not as a colleague, but as his best friend. Maybe he would open up to you, he would let himself go and he hopefully feel better. He's under too much pressure, it's not good for him..."

Frank felt like if he would have looked Cyrus in the eyes in that moment his friend's words would have hurt him even more than what they already did. But, somehow, he nodded to Isabelle. Maybe the truth was that he could understand how she was hurt, feeling the distance between her and the man who was the love of her life.

Frank really did understand that feeling.

He said goodbye to his friend's wife and aimed to his new destination for that morning: the fort. Even if it was the last place he would like to go to.

When Frank arrived he asked the guards at the gate - Marcus, Neal, Gregory and Stan - where Commodore Hamilton was. "South wing, Frank." Said Gregory, the most sympathetic of them, feeling sorry for Frank and his suspension.

Frank checked all the rooms of the South wing before finding Cyrus in the last one he checked, all alone and lost in his thoughts. When the Commodore turned to see who entered the room, Frank noticed he was holding a heavy hammer, one with a long handle, and for some reason Frank panicked.

"Frank, what are you doing here?"

"The real question is: what are you doing with that thing?"

Cyrus blinked, like he wasn't aware that he was holding the hammer, so he carefully put it down, laying it against the stone wall.

"Hem... nothing, it's just one of Fresherman's tools."

"Fresherman?"

"The man who's is helping me interrogate Red Crow"

"Oh..."

It wasn't difficult to imagine that Hamilton was holding the hammer because he would like to use it himself on Way. That was not a good thing. Frank couldn't help but wonder how it was possible for a single man to generate so much hate in the Military Navy.

"What are you doing here?" Hamilton asked again.

Frank gulped, sensing that the Commodore wasn't very happy to see him back, "I met Isabelle along the way. She's worried about you and she wanted me to talk to you"

"She's worried about me? But I'm fine."

"Honestly, I don't think that you are doing very well either..." jabbed Frank, "Way is giving you a hard time, eh?"

This wasn't a good time for an 'I told you so'.

"It's a case that needs drastic measures," said Hamilton, looking briefly at the hammer on the wall, "but I don't think it's going to take too long to break him down."

"Or to kill him." the words slipped out of Frank's mouth, due to his desire of seeing Red Crow lifeless.

"He did mention your name, you know that?"

Frank froze in his place, his breath stilled when he realized how serious and allusive Cyrus gaze was.

"Frank, what happened in that cell?" Cyrus asked while approaching Frank by a few steps. There wasn't an answer that wouldn't put him in trouble or shame him, and the Commodore seemed to know that. Frank gasped for air, not knowing what the hell to say.

"Is the prisoner not here yet?" Busted a voice in behind them. It was Fresherman, who was carrying a bag full of God-knows-what kind of gadgets on his shoulder.

"Not yet." Cyrus said curtly, his eyes still fixed on Frank, as if he didn't want to be distracted away from the answer he had asked Frank.

The soldier started forcibly to breathe again, "I... I leave you to your work." and then he ran away, his heart going wild of anxiety. Frank had never felt so panicked before, and he had no idea how to put himself out of this giant mess. Cyrus would find out sooner or later, and Frank would have to face those suspicious and inquiring eyes again. But he didn't want to. No, he couldn't. So, for the second time in a row, he ran away from his enormous problems and away from his shame. He'd rather deceive himself that running away would make everything disappear.

At least until he bumped into the famous everything that had caused it all.

Frank recognized him immediately, looking at him for the first time under a proper sunlight. The south wing, in that external and open air corridor, linked directly with the west wing and with the exit. In the very same time, on the other side of the corridor, Jeffrey and Kirk were holding Red Crow's handcuffed arms; they were escorting him to the cell where Fresherman was going to hit him with the hammer until he confessed.

Frank would have liked to enjoy the scene of the pirate's fingers and knees cracked under the strength of the hammer that was waiting in the cell, but, even if he wouldn't ever admit that, Frank had a far too weak stomach and he was too sensitive to the screaming of agony to be able to enjoy that kind of thing.

He felt a strange chill when Way noticed him: the pirate casually lifted his head and from behind his bangs, red as fire, emerged the sharp look that Frank wouldn't have wanted to know so well.

Red Crow seemed content to see him; a crooked smile was drawn on his face, which worried Frank. He couldn't escape both him and Cyrus so he just sped up, hoping that Way wouldn't say anything embarrassing in front of all the other soldiers.

"Ehy! Hi Frank" Jeffrey's voice made him jump, showing how on edge he currently was. "Good morning guys." Frank greeted back his colleagues, but he spoke too fast to be understood.

In the split second that Frank walked near Way, the man looked at him in a strange way. He seemed... lazy. Like a school boy that was returning home from school. Frank didn't have the time to realize this anyway, or to question it. Not with what happened next.


End file.
